Welcome to our collection of grief quotes. Grief is a powerful and universal emotion that we experience when we lose someone or something dear to us. It is a natural response to loss, and it can manifest in various ways. Whether you are grieving the loss of a loved one, a relationship, a job, or even a dream, these quotes aim to provide comfort, understanding, and solace during times of immense sadness and heartache.
In this collection, you will find words of wisdom from various authors, philosophers, and individuals who have experienced grief themselves. These quotes touch upon the different facets of grief, exploring its depth and complexity. Some may help you find solace, while others may resonate with your own unique experience of loss.
One of the fundamental aspects of grieving is knowing that you are not alone in your pain. These quotes remind us that grief is a shared human experience and that we can draw strength from others who have walked similar paths. They offer insights into the healing process and the possibility of finding hope and light amidst the darkness.
Whether you are seeking guidance, comfort, or simply a better understanding of grief, we hope that this collection of quotes will resonate with you and provide a source of comfort as you navigate through your own personal journey of loss and healing.
I nursed a worthless, pint drinker for twelve years and when my lazy, life-sucking, daddy finally died, I swore to God with tears in my eyes I'd never marry one. And then I did.
After my parents passed away - in 2000 and 2003 - I felt I could take the time to think about the past and imagine what it would have been like to be my grandmother.
Emma dropped the paper. Her first impression was of a weak feeling in her stomach and in her knees; then of blind guilt, of unreality, of coldness, of fear; then she wished that it were already the next day. Immediately afterwards she realized that that wish was futile because the death of her father was the only thing that had happened in the world, and it would go on happening endlessly.
I have talked to Debbie Hammond quite a bit, Jim Hammond's wife, his widow. I've seen their kids. And last time we played Dallas, a lot of them came over. It's hard for them to come see the show. It's still hard.
Imagine trying to relive your worst break-up, your worst fight, the most painful death of a loved one, and just really relive it step by step, and bring it up and apply it to the scene you're in.
Of the widow's countless death-duties there is really just one that matters: on the first anniversary of her husband's death the widow should think I kept myself alive.
... most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak. What is more, they need a steak. Preferably they need it rare, grilled, heavily salted, for that way it is most easily digested, and most quickly turned into the glandular whip their tired adrenals cry for.
After my husband died, I could not write much - I could not concentrate. I was too exhausted most of the time even to contemplate writing. But I did take notes - not for fiction, but for a journal, or diary, of this terrible time. I did not think that I would ever survive this interlude.
A lot of widows feel that they have betrayed their spouse by continuing to live. It's deranged thinking. I know that, but that doesn't stop you feeling it.
I would suggest the widow do things the husband used to do, so he seems to be there with you. You will feel like just going to bed. It's so wonderful, going to bed.
Most people think that a widow is inhabiting some elegiac world of - it's like Mozart's 'Requiem Mass.' You know, it's very beautiful and elevated thoughts and some measure of dignity. I didn't have that experience at all. I had one pratfall after another.
When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.
